


Test Me

by jujubiest



Series: Deus Ex Machina [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubiest/pseuds/jujubiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since it happened, Dean has only been praying for one thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Test Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm starting to worry that I'll be one of those writers who can't kill a character and leave them dead. Then again, those writers have some of the best and longest-running shows on television, so at least I'm in good company?

Dean wakes to the sound of the motel room door creaking open and then clicking shut. It isn't Sam; he knows the sound of Sam's footsteps and these are too light, and trying far too hard to be quiet. He slides his hand slowly under his pillow, gripping the wooden handle of the knife he still keeps there.

The footsteps stop at the edge of his bed, and he can feel the intruder leaning over him silently, eyes boring into the back of his head. It feels… _familiar_ , and he suppresses a tremor that starts tingling in his scalp and wants to work its way down his spine. He tries to keep his breathing even while bracing himself to flip over and engage the creepy bastard watching him sleep.

Creepy Bastard lets out a sigh, and Dean feels his entire body seize up. He stops breathing. He  _knows_ that sigh.

"Cas…" he gasps around the fist that seems to be squeezing his windpipe shut with the knowledge that it can't be, absolutely  _cannot possibly_  be…

"Dean," says a voice above him, and Dean feels himself turning over, feels his hand let go of the knife handle and feels his heart stutter back to its normal rhythm as his eyes tries to take in what he's seeing. It doesn't seem real, can't be real…and yet everything in him aches for it to be the truth.

Castiel is standing by his bed, looking down at him with warmth and relief and something else. He's different somehow, smaller. The familiar trench coat is of course gone; Dean burned it when they gave Jimmy Novak's body a well-deserved hunter's funeral. Cas looks so  _normal_ , in a pair of jeans and a faded black t-shirt. His hair falls messily over his forehead and his eyes, once cobalt-blue and sharp, now look faded and a little tired…tired, but  _happy_. He needs a shave.

Dean realizes with a start that Cas looked very  _human_.

"Cas," he says again, sitting up more fully and reaching out tentatively to lay a hand on the other man's arm. His fingers touch warm skin and he almost chokes because it really is Cas. He doesn't really think, then, just wraps both arms around Castiel and pulls him in, pressing his face to the soft fabric of Castiel's shirt and breathing in deep. Before, Cas always smelled a bit like cold metal. Now he smells like fabric softener, and Dean has a crazy moment where he tries not to go into hysterics over the fact that God or  _someone_  apparently decided to send Cas back to him not only as a human being, but in freshly laundered clothes no less. A whisper of a laugh escapes him despite his best efforts, and he feels Castiel's arms wrapping around him, long-fingered hands brushing through his hair and clutching at his shoulders.

"You came back," Dean mumbles, voice muffled by Castiel's stomach. He feels rather than hears Cas  _hmm_  in response.

"Of course," he says. "I always come when you call."

Dean practically melts against him, letting out a shaky breath and holding him just a little bit tighter. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, afraid if he really looks he'll prove to himself somehow that this is a dream. Cas cards his hands through Dean's hair and returns his embrace, both just basking quietly in being together, and alive.

It's Cas who finally breaks the silence.

"Dean…we should…shouldn't you test me?"

"Hmm?" Dean pulls back just enough to look up at Cas's face. "Test you for what?"

"Silver, holy water, iron...you should test me."

"Why would I test you? You're Cas." Cas gives him an unimpressed look.

"Yes, but I'm human. I could be an imposter. I could be possessed."

"And if you were either of those things you would totally be standing here trying to get me to test you for them, right?"

"If I wanted to convince you further of my veracity, then yes."

Dean rolls his eyes, and then reasserts his hold on Castiel and  _pulls_ , dragging backward until they're tumbling on the bed together, arms and legs tangling as Dean pulls Cas underneath the blankets, clothes and all, and redistributes them over their bodies amidst Castiel's half-hearted protests.

"Dean, we really should—"

"Shh," Dean interrupts, tucking Cas back into his arms and nuzzling his face into Cas's hair. "I know. You're right. I'm gonna put you through the ringer with tests, the whole nine yards, I promise. Salt, holy water, Borax, silver, iron…all of 'em. And we're gonna get you a tattoo to match mine and Sammy's, and maybe some sigils to hide us from the angels while we're at it."

"Okay," Cas says, sounding dubious. "But—"

"We're gonna do all of that…later. Tomorrow. Right now, I just want…" he stops, voice cracking a little. Cas was dead, really  _dead_ , and now he's here. Of course Dean has questions, and worries, but right now he just wants Cas there with him. As he always has, Castiel understands without having to be told with words.

"Okay," he says again, relaxing into Dean's arms and running a soothing hand down his spine. "Tomorrow, then."


End file.
